


An Ever Fixed Mark

by My_words_fly_up



Series: An Ever Fixed Mark [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Falling In Love, Harry Styles - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:51:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_words_fly_up/pseuds/My_words_fly_up





	

Old Nichol Street was a most dangerous street. Stabbings were a common occurrence, so none took notice when a few criminals were found dead. It was not until five weeks later, after eighteen people had died, that anyone realized the deaths were from a spreading sickness. The thing with disease and illness on that side of London was when it hit, it hit hard. Small quarters were packed tight with occupants and there was little to keep a person warm or dry. And none had access to proper medicine.

Because Old Nichol Street was about four miles east of Charrinton Street, the occupants of Hartwick House were cautious. No one knew how the sickness spread or how to stop it. The only preventative measure they knew to take was to stop drinking the water. Like the other residents in that part of London, Hartwick House was left with sour milk and little else. It was rationed out as if a prized commodity. But once it was gone, there would be nothing to drink at all, not until the shops reopened and street vendors returned.

It had been two days since the last customer had come to Hartwick House, which meant the better parts of London were hearing about it. The girls gathered in the sitting room, already complaining of boredom, but Harry preferred the solidarity of his room. Things were still strained between him and Lucy, so he could hardly confide in her about his argument with Louis. Hadn't she warned him? Harry cursed himself for being too foolish to heed. _I am hardly destined for a happy ending, least of all with someone like Louis Tomlins._ Harry had been too happy, too caught up in... _him_ , to properly think straight. Had he approached this rationally, he would have simply enjoyed the gentleman for what he was, a moment in time that was not like any others, but one that would end all the same.

Harry had discarded his undershirt some time ago and the only thing he wore was a pair of loose fitting wool trousers. Still, when he touched his brow he found it sleek with sweat. He was beginning to feel as if his room were a furnace, though he dare not open a window, not when a sneeze may get one sick.

Shifting and turning, he could not find a comfortable position on his bed, deciding that autumn could not come soon enough. _Once I am busy again, I will not even think of_ him _._

He turned his face into his pillow and when he took a breath it was as if Louis had only been lying upon it, the scent of his soap impossibly strong. Harry was loath to be reminded of Louis, his scent, his touch, his taste. _His taste most of all._ The memory flooded him then, unbidden. After one particular night that had left them both drenched in sweat, Harry had pressed his lips against Louis’ neck and tasted salt and aftershave. Louis’ lips were always sweet, but every other part of his body tasted of salt. Would that girl Winnifred ever make that discovery? And if she did, would she ever appreciate it as much as he? The candle had long gutted out, but Harry's eyes had grown used to the dark, and he could see the man lying before him, a sheet draped breezily around his waist, hugging every curve. The whites of Louis' eyes had glistened as they fell on his own, and he could hear the intake of breath before Louis had said, “You know there is no other place I would rather be.”

“And where is that, Lou?”

“Next to you.”

 _Get out of my head, Louis, please._ Harry pushed away a curl that was plastered to his brow. His skin was warm, uncomfortably so.

He fell asleep after that. When he woke again it was still night. The room was a blur of dancing shadows, and no matter how many times he blinked, he could not bring anything into focus. The shadows grew in size, stretching forward from the peeling walls like clawed hands.

“Harry? Harry? Can you hear me?”

It was Lucy's voice. “Of course I can hear you Lucy, you needn't shout.”

When had Lucy come into his room? She was seated at his side, a hand rested upon his cheek. She turned her head to say, “He's burning up, Charlie.”

“Bloody fool, he is! Harry, yer shoulda told me yer was sick!”

“I'm not...I'm just...tired. Stop fussing, Lucy.”

“You missed supper again, dearest.”

Harry could not help but smile. “I doubt I would miss eating sawdust.”

He could see that Lucy was feigning her calm, Charlie not so much.

“Can you try to drink this?” Lucy held a dented cup in her hand.

As if doing this simple thing would appease them, Harry got down the sour milk in two gulps. It tasted so foul he would have rather gone without. “I feel better already.”

Lucy gently brushed the hair off his face, while Charlie grumbled on his way out of the room.

“I'm sorry, Lucy.”

“Sorry?”

“About Louis-”

“No. I should have kept my mouth shut. Perhaps I’m a bit jealous. Perhaps I forgot that people can still dream with their eyes open.”

“But you were right.” Harry felt as if he were sinking into the bed.

“Hush. We don’t need to do this now.” She paused. “I'm going to open a window.”

“No! You mustn't. Every old wives' tale speaks of demons sneaking through the open windows, trying to steal the souls of the dying.”

“Not with me in the room they won’t.”

Harry managed a laugh. “You're right. The demons would never stand a chance.”

He fell asleep to her soft humming. When he woke again she was gone, and someone else in her place.

The touch was familiar enough that he never doubted who it was.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. “Lou, what are you _doing_ here? You need to go.”

“You are still angry with me?”

Was he? “I...d-don't...know! But I do know you must leave.”

Louis was dressed in a light summer suit, the fabrics white and blue. The soft tips of his hair were long enough to tuck behind his ears. “Or what?”

“What?”

“What will you do?”

“I...I will call the Big Man!”

“You are so bloody stubborn, you know that?” This was the first time Harry had ever heard Louis raise his voice. He had heard him angry, but never loud.

His muscles felt like mush, but Harry used what energy he could to roll over and put his back to Louis. “Go away, please.”

“Harry. You are sick.” Louis must have found the cup of milk then. “What is this? It smells foul.”

“There is no more water.”

“There is plenty of water, just not here.”

“Well, I am _here_!”

Louis climbed onto the bed in order to face him. His eyes widened at what he saw. “Oh, God, Harry, you’ve got a rash on your neck.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Go, Louis. Go or you will get sick.”

“You are mad if you think I would leave you. _We_ are going. Now.”

Somehow Louis got him on his feet and out of the room, despite Harry leaning heavily upon him. The hall was empty, the house quiet. “I need to tell Charlie.”

“He will figure it out.” Louis led him outside to a waiting carriage, the gas light on the street making the road look yellow and dismal.

He was suddenly all too aware of how filthy his sleeping garments must look compared to Louis in his immaculate suit. Once inside the carriage he attempted to slide out of Louis' grasp, not wishing to taint him, but Louis kept a firm grip around his waist.

“Where are we going?”

“I'm taking you to a doctor.”

“No, Louis! Your doctor might remember me and call that constable!”

“That doctor is too far away. Now, save your strength and stop arguing with me.”

The carriage ride was not long, but by the time the carriage stopped, Harry was fading in and out of consciousness. He could hear Louis' voice, elegant and soft, but far away. It was not long before the voice was coaxing him to open his eyes. It was then the angel in white helped the man in rags out of the carriage and into a large house.

Harry could barely lift his head, his eyes focused solely on the rugs. They were fine rugs, so he knew they were no longer near Charrington Street. A plump man dressed in a night coat met them in the hallway.

“Thank you for seeing me without notice,” Louis said with both formality and urgency.

“But of course, any friend of Carlson Tippet is a friend of mine. Is this the lad?” The man put an arm around Harry. Together the two men carried him down the hall to a room that was covered from floor to ceiling in bright, flowery wallpaper. There was a four post bed with the sheets pulled back, and the two men eased Harry into it.

“Now, my boy, I am Doctor Zelpher. How long ago have you been unwell?”

“I don't know. Maybe a few days.”

Louis cleared his throat. “There is a rash, there, on his neck.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” The doctor stepped back and scratched his bald head. “Those are the red spots I've been seeing. Are you staying hydrated?”

Louis answered for him. “He needs water.”

“I will have my assistant bring some.”

The doctor pulled Louis away from Harry to the corner of the room. Harry strained to listen.

“Once there are spots...it may be too late.”

Louis' face darkened. “Too late? No. Mr. Tippet assured me are of the highest qualifications.”

“I will do what I can.”

“And you will save him.” Louis' voice broke no argument. His eyes met Harry's, and Harry looked away. The doctor excused himself to retrieve his bag.

For a moment the only sound was the tick of a clock hanging from the wall.

“Your hair is longer,” Louis said finally, standing at the bedside and taking a curl between his fingers.

Harry could not help but smile. What a conversation to be having now! “So is yours.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. Very much.”

The doctor returned with an assistant with pockets jutting out and buttons mismatched. The assistant pressed a cup of water to Harry's lips and then something from a jar.

“This will help you sleep,” the doctor said.

Harry tried to protest. He did not want sleep. If this was going to be his last night, he would rather be awake. But for some reason his words did not come out and before he could do anything else, everything went black.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The floor boards were creaking, and he could hear whispering. It was hushed, but completely clear.

“His fever returned.”

“Give him more medicine.”

“I cannot give him more, he is too thin.”

“Then give him something else.”

“Mr. Tomlins, believe me, I am doing everything I can. He is in terrible shape, the lad is starved. How did you say you know him?”

“I did not say, Doctor.”

Harry desperately wished to be a part of this conversation. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, though his movement did bring Louis to his bedside. The doctor left then, and Louis was whispering so softly into his ear it felt like a dream.

“Do not worry. He will draw you a bath. It will get the fever down. You must be strong, Harry. I mean...what am I saying, you are strong. Stronger than I. Braver, too.”

No, you are brave.

“Harry? Harry, did you say something?”

But Harry could not get the words out, no matter how he tried, and the next he knew he was being plunged into the icy waters of a bath.

 

 

 

 

 

A simple painting of an apple cut down the middle to reveal two black seeds was the first thing Harry noticed about the room. A gas lamp burned low, from atop a small wood table. The wallpaper was not Harry's taste, with its plain, ill-designed flowers, but it did look expensive.  There were two great windows in the room, and beyond them a night sky.

 _Am I still alive?_ He wore satin trousers and a shirt that was not his own. Several wool blankets were sprawled at the end of the bed. There was a nightstand set with a pitcher of water, a bowl of something yellow, and a dozen or so towels. And he was not alone.

A small, stuffed chair upholstered in brown leather had been pulled to the bedside. Louis had somehow folded himself into it and fallen asleep. He was also wearing clothes that were not his own, for they looked too big on him, and wisps of hair had fallen over his eyes.

 _I do not belong here._ Louis had been foolish to bring him. Harry knew he must go before he need face the doctor and the questions he dare not answer.

Harry carefully slid off the bed. His legs were weak, but he steadied himself by leaning on the wall. It was not cold outside, so he did not need to worry about a pair of shoes and there was no time for a shirt. He took quiet steps, but just as he reached for the door knob the floorboard under his foot creaked loud and slow.

His back was turned, but he heard Louis sit up. “Harry? What are you doing?”

His hand clutched the doorknob. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? It does not look like nothing.”

“Leaving.”

“You mean to stroll across London half-naked?” Louis was on his feet and at Harry's side in a heartbeat, his voice a hushed whisper.

“I shouldn’t be here, Louis! Just let me go, tell the doctor I left whilst you slept!” Harry went to turn the knob but Louis gripped his arm and pulled him away.

“No.”

“The doctor…inspected me…you should never have taken me here!”

Louis' eyes searched him. In this light they looked more green than blue. “Harry. Please. You look as though you are going to fall over, do get back into bed.”

Harry grudgingly obliged only because he felt as if he were going to faint. He sat back against the pillow.

“How do you feel?”

“Gross. How do _you_ feel?”

Louis ignored him. “Here. The doctor said you should drink some broth when you woke.” A bowl of yellowish liquid had been sat on the side table. He handed it to Harry. “Your fever spiked. Twice. Just when Doctor Zelpher thought it was over it came back. It finally broke last night.”

Harry drank the broth and nearly choked. Even at room temperature it burned his throat. “Oh.”

“In your room...you said you were still angry with me.”

 _Was_ he still angry? Louis had risked so much in taking him here and he had done it without question. Why then, when Harry looked into sad blue eyes, could he not deny it?

Louis’ elegant shoulders slumped forward. Harry realized how handsome he looked with a few days’ growth on his chin. “I am so sorry, Harry. I should never have called you a...you know.”

Harry shrugged. “ _Whore_? You can say it, Louis.”

“It was so awful of me. I cannot believe I said it.”

“I know what I am. I know what kind of house I live in, and what kind of neighborhood. I just...never felt so unworthy until I heard _you_ say it. I know you are better than me, Louis. I suppose I only hoped you did not think about it.”

Louis' face dropped. “I do not think I am better than you! Never, Harry. It wasn't even the house. It was seeing that man and the way he came out of your room, seeing him so pleased. I would never have thought myself a jealous person, until that night.

“I am ashamed of my behavior. I wrote you so many letters, but ended up throwing every one into a fire. I didn't think you would want to see me ever again. And...and your words did sting.”

Harry bit his lip. “And I did not mean it. I only said it to hurt you.”

Louis’ voice was so soft it reminded Harry of a candle dancing in a breeze. “Once I heard people in your area were sick I went to the house to make an appointment with you, to make sure you were all right. Charlie told me you were not feeling well.”

“I guess I owe you, don't I? Twice now you've saved my life.”

Louis knelt before the bed and took Harry's hands. “It has hurt...it has hurt so much, not seeing you.”

“I...missed you too, Louis.”

Louis stood, his brow still furrowed in a somber expression. “Now...I do not mean to sound as if I am scolding you but if you are ever sick, do tell me. I don't think I could go through this again.”

Harry scrunched up his face. “It’s not as though I got sick on purpose.”

“Ah, so you will use those dimples to render me powerless against you.” Louis gave him a quick kiss on the cheek; Harry was surprised he would dare such a move in this doctor's house. “I am beginning to think your ploy is the maiden in distress.”

“Ha! I am hardly a maiden.”

Louis sat back in his chair, finally smiling. His eyes were on Harry and suddenly he was serious again. “You haven't been eating.”

“Gee, Louis, will you stop with this mothering!”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot help it. It is unacceptable.”

Harry grinned. “ _Unacceptable_ , aye? Am I a dish served cold, Louis?”

“No. I mean...I have been thinking.” He brushed his hair off his forehead. “I don't want you to work for Charlie anymore.”

“And I want to be a bird so I could fly!”

“I am being serious, Harry. It is too dangerous. A customer did try to kill you, then this fever. There is never enough food, not even when things are going well. What is next?”

“Nothing. Boring, dull life is next.”

“Nothing with you is boring, love.”

“I would rather not discuss this again, Louis. You could have walked away when you found out what I did.”

“But I didn't. And I'm not walking away now.” Louis folded his hands carefully, as though he were conducting a business deal. “I am going to pay Charlie so you do not have to work for him anymore.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure, Louis. You want to buy me?”

“No. No one will own you. You will be free.”

Harry laughed. “Louis, I do not have my wits about me yet to banter with you.”

“Harold. I am being serious.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“This is not a joke.”

“But...you...why are you saying this? You do not even know how much such a thing would cost you.”

“I do. Five years wage.”

“How...how do you...this is ridiculous. You can't do this! Even if you truly considered this...that amount is...how would I ever pay you back?”

“It is not a loan, it is a gift.”

“No. It's too much.”

“I already spoke to Charlie.”

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. “No! How could you?”

“Please do not get angry with me. This is not a getaway to the country, this is getting away from that life.”

“I...I do not deserve such a thing, Louis! Don't you understand?”

“You don't think you deserve a better life?” Louis stood. “You deserve everything, Harry. Let me give you this one thing.”

“But...what am I supposed to do, exactly? Pack up my few belongs and go...where?”

“I have thought about this. I will get you a position on my staff.”

Harry had to laugh. “Your staff? I think I already know the position.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I am in need of an additional valet.”

“On my days off shall I meet you in the study? Right under the nose of your mother and father?”

“We would give them no reason to suspect anything. I have been considering this ever since the night of the masquerade ball. You move like a gentleman, you speak as well as one when you aren't being crass-”

“I _move_ like one, huh?”

“But you must stop interrupting.” Louis continued his thought. “No one at the party would have ever guessed you weren't one of them. You are educated enough, so you simply need to work on your tact. If you learn to hold your tongue, no one ever need know.”

“You are forgetting, dear Louis, that I was wearing a mask that night! What if someone recognizes me?”

“You needn't worry. My peers are highly skilled at not seeing servants, just as servants are skilled at not being seen. Most of the time you would only be with me and in the rare case you are not, you would be standing amongst other servants, dressed as one.”

“Ah, but of course, no one should recognize me unless I was without my clothes.”

“Precisely.”

Harry's heart began to pound as he realized Louis _had_ thought about this in great detail, was not indulging some whim. _He said he has been thinking about this since the night of the masquerade._ Was this even truly possible?

“Louis, I do not know if I can do this. I am not an actor! I am...I am a wh-”

“A beautiful, kind, sweet man, who must trust me in this. Because I would never let anything happen to you.”

“Now who is the one interrupting?”

Suddenly the door opened and a doctor Harry vaguely remembered appeared with a night cap on his head.

“My boy! You are awake! I thought I heard voices.”

Louis straightened quickly. “I was just about to call for you.”

The doctor walked over to Harry and felt his forehead. “How do you feel?”

Harry glanced at Louis. “I am beginning to wonder if I'm still asleep, and this is all a dream.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It had been harder to leave Hartwick House than Harry ever imagined. The people there were his family, no matter how dysfunctional. Charlie had never looked so forlorn at getting five years wage in one transaction. Harry still couldn't believe Louis had done it. He was convinced Louis might change his mind and four weeks of planning would be undone. But it happened.

Lucy had been hiding the tears as he gathered his few belongings, but had let the tears go once she hugged him. She used her delicate fingers to wipe his away. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, darling.”

She pulled away, her cheeks wet with tears. “You promise you will be careful?”

“It's not as if I go looking for trouble! But I do promise.”

Lucy put her hand over Harry's heart. “I meant with this.”

Harry covered her hand with his. With complete honesty he said, “It is too late for that, I think.”

He had hugged her once again and promised to visit whenever he could. Harry would be walking five blocks to the train station where a carriage would pick him up. Louis had gone to great lengths to satisfy a good story as to where he came from, and a detail as little as where the carriage would pick him up had not been missed.

It was Charlie who had come to Harry before he left. Charlie on the surface was a hard man, who ran an establishment considered despicable by all who did not frequent it (and even by those who did). He sold women to men by the hour, and he never claimed to be a saint. But never had he raised a hand to Harry or any of the girls, and that was something of a rarity in such a business.

All these things Harry had felt, but dared not say. Charlie was a man of little emotion, and would rather not hear such things. Instead he had given Harry a handshake and patted him on the shoulder before turning away.

Now Harry Stiles was headed to Upper George Street in Grovsenor Square dressed in a simple, but new, black suit. His reference papers were in his hand, so they did not wrinkle in his bag. Louis had procured Harry as his second valet. The current valet was a man in his late sixties, and there were some duties he could not perform as easily anymore. Louis could have secured him a position as a page or stable boy with less need for remarkable reference, but Louis would hardly ever have need to interact with them. It may have been more difficult to get him the position as valet, but it was the only way Louis and Harry could be together without suspicion.

Harry Stiles became Harold Smyth (a common enough last name for a servant), a boy who had served Lord Charles Cowdin until his recent passing. Lord Cowdin was without family, had been a known recluse, and no immediate decisions had been made about his country house in Edgware, where he had been living year round. Louis took the lead on checking references, claiming that he wanted to know exactly who he would be employing as a close confidant. As long as no one tried to verify the position with the butler of Lord Cowdin, they would never know the truth. The idea of such a lie had worried Harry, but Louis had been quite involved in selecting the house in which to say Harry should come, and said there couldn't be a better one.

Harry was still thinking of this unlikely scenario as he rode in the Tomlins' carriage. The houses in Mayfair were grand and enormous. He watched as they passed by, and was reminded of the sizable home where the masquerade ball had been. These were even bigger, and Harry wondered what would happen if he stopped the carriage. He was more nervous than he had anticipated, and seeing these houses was not helping. What if they all saw through his lies? Louis believed that the workers in his house did not have time to worry about one another, but Harry knew that was not entirely true. He had worked in the kitchens at Hartwick House, and no amount of work could keep the busy bodies in the house from gossiping about everything and anything. Louis had helped him recite his fictional life over and over until he was confident he would remember it. But now he wasn't certain he could recall any of it.

Harry was staring at the papers in his hands, which were shaking now, when the carriage finally stopped. He was so distracted that he didn't even look at the house until he was standing in front of it.

The estate was near a hundred feet long, with great glass windows on both the first and second floors. The landscaping had perfectly trimmed trees and rose bushes, a gravel path leading straight to the front door. Harry had imagined that the house would be grand and beautiful, but he had not expected it to be quite this grand and beautiful.

He found the side path that Louis had told him about, which led to the servant's entrance on the eastern of the house. He didn't know how this could still be London. The sky was blue, birds were singing, and the neighborhood was quiet and clean. It was so very different from the part of the city he was used to.

Before he could pull the bell, the door opened to reveal a footman dressed in a neatly pressed black suit with a white shirt underneath.

“Mr. Smyth,” he stated.

“Yes.” Harry said, trying to compose himself. He lifted his chin high. Louis said a man as young as he that had the opportunity to serve a lord should have a dignity about him. “But not too much, you do not want others to think you are pompous, _”_ Louis had instructed. _Too much or too little, how will I ever play this part correctly?_

“You are expected. Please come in.” The man moved aside, only giving him the slightest of glances. New members to the staff were always something of interest, Harry knew.

The servants entrance was a modest hall with freshly scrubbed floors. Harry could see it led to the kitchen, which bustled with noise and smells of freshly baking bread. The footman led him along into the kitchen, motioning for him to take a seat at a round wooden table. Already a few of the kitchen maids had stopped to stare, and the cook cursed at them to get on with it, in an accent that Harry recognized as French.

“Mr. Fitch will see to you shortly. Would you like some tea?”

 _What had Louis said? One answer was acceptable, the other deplorable, oh which was the correct answer when offered tea?_ Harry took a breath. “Yes, please.”

The man flicked his fingers at a boy of about twelve, before taking his leave.

As the boy arranged the tea cups, a tall man in his forties with broad shoulders appeared. His nose was long and his lips so full they seemed to be hanging in a frown. Harry knew this was the butler. Louis had warned that all butlers were proud, especially ones who served known estates. And this one was no exception.

“Mr. Harold Smyth.” The butler stated. “I am John Fitch. May I see your papers?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, handing them over. Once they were out of his possession he could worry less about ruining them.

They were written in a confident hand, and deceptively signed by Lord Cowdin.

“Young Master Tomlins was assured of your background, but we keep these as a formality,” the man said, nodding as he read them. He seemed please. For a moment Harry worried if Louis had made his qualifications too great.

Harry did not want to delay the man, so he took his tea quickly, ignoring the burn as he swallowed. Once he was finished the butler nodded. “Follow me, please.”

Trying not to look so impressed with the furnishings in the servants quarters, Harry kept at pace with the butler. John Fitch was a tall man, of a similar height as Harry. He stood so straight it looked as though he had a board against his back. Harry put his own shoulders back, attempting to look just as proper. Mr. Fitch cleared his throat as he began his lesson.

“There are twenty-nine rooms in this house. The kitchen, as you see, is on the east side, as well as the pantries, sewing, and wash rooms. There is a door- right there- that leads up the stairs to the servants rooms. You will be sharing a room with Alfred Pavey, Master Tomlins' valet. He will teach you everything you need to know about Master Tomlins' preferences.”

Harry held his hand over his mouth and tried to make his laugh sound like a sneeze.

The butler barely noticed. “The Masters have the south rooms that face the street. The young Misses Tomlins' have rooms on the western end. Young Master Tomlins has the rooms that face the gardens, and his washroom is adjacent to them. He also has his parlor and library. There is a family library on the bottom floor, as well as a dining room, formal dining room, sitting room, study, parlor, and waiting room.

“We take our breakfast at five, luncheon at ten, and supper at four. You are allowed two days off in every four week period. If you require any time other than that, you must take it up with me before you put in a request from the Master.”

Harry was wondering how he would ever wake up at five, realizing that Louis had only said 'you will need to rise a little earlier than you are used to.' “Yes, Mr. Fitch.”

“I keep a very tight schedule, though I'm sure you are used to that serving Lord Cowdin. I dislike delays, being bothered with nonsense, and complaints from any of the family.” Mr. Fitch's pinched face made him seem if he disliked even talking about what he disliked. “You are tall. Perhaps one day you wish to be a butler. They are preferred to be of a certain height.”

Harry wasn't sure if it was a compliment, so he only nodded.

“Young Master Tomlins is taking his breakfast with his family at the moment. I will show you to your room.”

The room that Harry would be sharing was modest and much smaller than the one he had left. There were two small beds, each on opposite sides. The room was only long enough to spare a nightstand for each, as well as two small dressers. There was a small square window, but it was too high to look out of. Hanging oddly from the ceiling was a long, braided cord.

The man he would be sharing this space with had only a pitcher of water on his nightstand.

“Go ahead and unpack your items. I will introduce you to the staff this afternoon. It will take time to remember all of them, but I trust your memory is good. I will return in ten minutes.” He motioned to the fabric along the window. “That is the Masters bell. He will ring it when he needs you; see to it that you do not keep him waiting long.”

Harry began unpacking his own measly collection of personal items. Louis had purchased new garments for him, but other than that all he had to unpack were his books. It was a good thing he did not have more; Louis had not warned him about his small living space either. _Had he told me of the hours I would need keep, I might have never agreed to this!_ Harry was not ungrateful; it was the simple fact that his routine gave him late hours and he had grown accustomed to sleeping in, and this change would take getting used to.

Mr. Fitch was indeed prompt and returned exactly ten minutes later.

“Young Master Tomlins is in his library and available to receive you.”

It was obvious when he walked from the servant’s side of the house and entered the family’s living space. The carpet was plush and the color ivory, a bold choice for carpet. It was stainless, so Harry guessed there was a worker whose sole job was keeping it clean. The doors boasted golden handles, and yellow velvet curtains opened to allow the sunlight to stream in. He noted paintings of gardens and flowers, simple yet classic. He wondered if Louis' mother had done the decorating. He couldn't imagine the cost of so much furniture and decoration.

“Right this way, this is Young Master Tomlins' library.”

Harry had to wash his face of any emotion as the butler pushed open the door and moved aside.

“Young Master Tomlins, may I present your new valet, Mr. Harold Smyth.”

Louis was standing, one hand in his pocket and the other elegantly at his side. His blue eyes looked especially bright in the light of the room, and he nodded at Harry, his lips slightly pulling together.

“Thank you, John. Please tell Alfred that I will call when I need him again.”

John Fitch bowed as he closed the door.

Once the latch was heard by both, Louis turned to him. “I cannot believe you are here,” he said quietly.

“I either.”

“You found your way all right? Your room, it is to your liking?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It is so small, I know. I should have told you.”

“I will be fine.”

“You are certain?” Louis approached him then. The stranger he had pretended to be in front of the butler melted away, and all the familiarity was him again. “I have been staring at the clock all morning!”

“Did you think I wouldn't come?”

“I wasn't sure if this is truly what you wanted.” Louis turned away his shining blue eyes, and Harry felt his heart thump as Louis whispered, “Is it what you want?”

“You are what I want. Nothing but you.”

Louis smiled and Harry felt as if he were standing by a fire. He looked around the room then, having completely ignored it when he walked in. It was clearly decorated by Louis. The dark wooden bookshelves were built into the walls, floor to ceiling, and stuffed with books. The floors were covered in rugs with a bold red and black design, something exotic and not made in London. There was a small fireplace, beside it a leather chair that had to be the only thing Harry had seen so far in this house that actually looked used. “Your house, Louis. It is _huge_!”

“You have leave of the gardens and the stables. A valet has that right, it's not like anyone will think you are getting special privileges. And of course you can read any book you wish.”

“You would let a servant borrow your book?” Harry went to the shelves and traced his fingers along the fine, leather bound books. “Well, this is a fine collection. I may take you up on that offer.”

Louis went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are not my servant, Harry. I do not want you to think that you are.”

Harry noticed a clock hanging from the wall. “How long would be decent that I become...acquainted with you?”

“We must be very quiet.” Louis went to the window and pulled the curtains shut. “I would say it would take at least thirty minutes to get on with the necessities.”

“Let us get on with it then.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that first day, Harry had been given the hope that this might not be so hard after all. The other servants were nice enough, their dinners exquisite and made by the under cook, who like the main cook, was from France.

But everything that had been relaxed and new the first day ended after that. Harry was woken by Alfred Pavey at four in the morning to begin the duties of the day, which were more than Harry could have ever guessed. Suits and undergarments had to be lined out, sent out for cleaning, returned and inspected, and shoes polished every single night. Louis would wake at his leisure, basin of warm water ready. Baths were drawn, clothes laid out, daily schedules kept, business tended, family meals planned, callers arrived, social events discussed, the list went on and on. And Alfred was ever by Harry's side, overseeing everything he did. Harry felt as though he were racing the clock to make sure every aspect of Louis' life was taken care of. It was a catastrophe when Louis' sheets were not cleaned well enough by the washer, thus delaying them being placed on the bed. It had been a long time since Harry had kept such a pace, and even when he was in Charlie's kitchen, it had never been so impeccably timed. It was exhausting.

Alfred Pavey was a quiet, stern man, who was not critical in his words, but rather transparent with looks. If Harry missed anything, he would see it in Alfred's eyes. The man had no life outside his master, and his work was everything. Harry had never worked so hard in all his life to please a man.

Worst of all, Alfred never left Harry alone with Louis. Louis would have to find tasks to send him away, but it was never anything that kept him away for long. Harry sensed that Alfred might fear being replaced, and had no intent on letting the newcomer outshine him.

It was almost four weeks since Harry arrived, and on a brisk rainy morning he was laying out Louis' shaving supplies, carefully arranged just so, along the white porcelain sink, with Alfred behind him, when Louis entered the powder room.

“Good morning,” Louis nodded towards Alfred, then Harry. Servants weren't allowed to speak until spoken too.

“Good morning, Master Tomlins,” Alfred said, bowing. Harry bowed.

“Alfred, I have an order coming. It has been drizzling all morning and I am worried it shall be received and left in a damp place. Could you please await its arrival and bring it to me immediately?”

Alfred nodded, his stiff body obedient in every way. “I will see to it.”

“I shall like some assistance this morning Mr. Smyth,” Louis continued, not even looking at Harry.

“Of course, Master Tomlins.” Harry turned his attention to his master, as Alfred quietly left them.

Louis turned on the water. “There _is_ a package coming. But I don't know if it has already arrived.”

“I'm sure if it hasn't, that man will run to the post to retrieve it and be back before the door closes.”

Louis frowned. “I guess I never realized how attentive he was until I didn't want him to be.”

Harry watched as Louis fumbled with his shaving cream. He rolled his eyes and helped him. “I don't even have to shave and I know what to do.” He wiped the cream along Louis' cheeks. “Tomorrow is my first day off.”

“I know.” Louis grinned under the cream.

“Have you been keeping track, Mr. Tomlins?”

“I have.” Louis went to use the blade against his cheeks, but Harry took it, knowing if Louis did it he would undoubtedly cut himself and Alfred would blame Harry for it. “There is a park five blocks north of here. It is very small and private, most people want to be seen at parks, so of course there is no desire to go to one where they shan't be. Shall I meet you there at noon?”

“That is risky, Louis.”

“In the case we are spotted, I shall say I had urgent need of you and you sacrificed your day off. But no one in my family would ever be there, and certainly no one in society. I will arrive before you, and we will not leave together. I could not very well select a place that is far from here, since you can't be seen leaving this house in my carriage.”

“All right. I shall see you there at noon.” Harry smiled, turning the blade against Louis' cheek bone. “Speaking of family, I still have not seen them. Are you sure they live here?”

“Unless you chanced upon them, which is very unlikely, you wouldn't see them.”

“Drat. Your house is too big! I so wish to take a peek at your father. Shouldn't I know what you will look like in old age?”

Louis smiled. “I've been told I look very little of him. My sisters and I take after our mother.”

“And she is chained up in her room?”

“She and my sisters go calling often or receiving visitors in the salon. When she is not doing that, she is seeing that all the maids are in order, writing letters in her study, or making sure my youngest sister stays up with her studies.”

“I don't know how you all fill your days with such nonsense.”

“It is not nonsense. There are charities they are also involved with.”

“I see their maids every day, bustling about like they are doing the most important thing in the world. Sewing a skirt is a big catastrophe! It is maddening.” Louis looked down, and Harry decided to change the subject. “I want to see your sisters even more than your father. The two I met were under their masks at the ball. I doubt I'd even recognize one.”

“You will see one. There is a dinner party coming up, and I'm certain you and Alfred will be attending me at some point.”

Harry was satisfied with the shave job, and dabbed Louis' chin with a towel. Harry couldn't resist putting his hands on Louis, gently touching his smooth cheeks. “It has been far too long.”

Before Louis could respond, they heard the door handle and Alfred arrived, large box cradled like a babe in his arms.

Louis glanced at Harry quickly, before turning to the man. “Thank you Alfred. That was fast, indeed.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry had finally been able to sleep in on his first day off. He was so exhausted the sun was already up when he did open his eyes. His back was aching as he raced down the stairs. He barely had time to eat a piece of toast, since he had slept through breakfast.

The day outside was cold and gray on this October day. Once he arrived at the park after a thirty minute walk he felt the chill in his bones. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn't own a pair of gloves fit to be seen in, since valets and maids were an important reflection of their masters. He recalled that Louis had at one point bought him a pair, but he had no idea where they were now.

The park was very pleasant, indeed small and empty, just as Louis had said. Harry only saw a few others, and they appeared to be grounds keepers. It wasn't exactly ideal weather in which to stroll about a park anyway, and Harry was sure the civilized, proper people of this area were warm indoors somewhere. Most of society was already heading to their country homes.

Eventually it began to rain, and Harry had to duck under a marble column at the entrance of the park. He had a good view of the street, which became crowded with carriages and omnibuses as they struggled in the rain.

He stood shivering, feeling his shoes and pant legs soaking. It felt as though he had been waiting forever, but it had been eleven o'clock when he left. Finally he asked a grounds keeper for the time.

The man had changed into rubber boots, a bag filled with twigs at his side.

“The time, aye?” He pulled out a pocket watch, rusty with age. “Why, 'tis almost two o'clock, lad.”

Harry was certain the man's watch had stopped. “Two? It can't be.”

“Well, mebbe you know the time 'etter than me,” the man mumbled as he walked away.

The rain was coming down in sleets, so Harry could not hope to walk back to the house now. He found a tea shop close to the park, and by the time he entered he was sopping wet.

The man at the front gave him a dirty look, watching the puddle form under Harry's feet.

“Can I help you?” The man knew the difference between a gentleman and a servant.

“May I have a table?” Harry decided it was at least warm, and the rain did not seem to show any signs of stopping.

“Yes. Please, wipe your feet.”

Harry did as he was told, before following the man to a table in the back. He brought Harry a teapot and one cup. “Do you have the time?”

The man answered immediately. “It is two-thirty.”

Harry did not understand where Louis could be. He thought at first the rain had slowed him, but he had said to meet him at noon. It had not been raining then.

“'Ello, there.”

Harry looked up to see a young girl, standing with her hands folded before him. At first he didn't recognize her, in a simple brown woolen dress and hat. Then he realized it was because she was not dressed in her normal maid's uniform.

“Hello....ah....” He couldn't recall her name. There were so many servants at the Tomlins household, he knew it would take time to remember them all.

“Maggie,” she said with a laugh. “You are Louis' new valet.”

“Yes, Harold.”

“I know your name.” She was young, around Harry's age. Her wavy brown hair was the same color as her eyes. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.”

“Were you expecting someone?”

He realized then that even if Louis found him, he could certainly not stay. Harry found himself suddenly irritated at the prospect, despite the fact that they may have been seen. “No.”

“You are soaked to the bone. Did you get caught in the rain?”

“Yes.” Harry conscientiously ran a hand through his hair.

“Silly, you forgot your gloves.”

“Oh, yes.” Harry pulled his hand away and tucked it under the table.

Maggie smiled, pouring a cup of tea for herself. “Today is your first day off?”

“Ye-”

“Yes. You seem fond of that word.” She blew on the hot tea. “You and I will have our days off on the same cycle. Only one of the tea boys had the same day off as me before.”

“Is that so?” Harry noticed someone enter, for a moment his heart racing, expecting to see Louis. It was only an older gentleman.

Maggie followed his gaze. “I thought you said you weren't meeting anyone?”

“I'm not.”

“I'm one of Miss Verity's maids. I was a parlor maid before that. I've been employed by the Tomlins' since I was nine.”

“Interesting.”

“My mum worked for one of their uncles, and she got me the job. I don't see her much anymore. Her and I don’t have the same days off.”

“Oh.”

“It's a pity though, because she's a flying trapeze artist and she juggles fire.”

“I see.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ha! You aren't listening to a word I am saying!”

“Pardon?” Harry was confused.

“If I am bothering you, I will leave you be. I was running some errands when I saw you duck in here, and I thought you would like some company.”

Harry knew he shouldn't offend her. He was the new one at the house, and making enemies of a ladies maid could make life miserable for him. They all gossiped, and could easily band against someone.

“No, I am very sorry, I did not mean to be rude. Please, stay. I got…a little lost and…flustered.”

Maggie smiled, showing a gap between her two front teeth. “You are new to this area?”

“Yes.” That wasn't a lie.

“You should check out the park when it isn’t raining. Most prefer Hyde Park, because it's bigger. But it's also louder and everyone is showing off. And it's smellier.” Maggie made a face.

Harry laughed genuinely. “Thank you for the tip. I prefer places that are not so smelly.” He suddenly remembered his last time in Hyde Park and shivered.

“Where are you from?”

“The city originally, but I was working out in Edgware.” Harry said a quick prayer that she would not know anything of the area, because all Harry knew about it was the name.

“New people are the most exciting thing about our jobs, besides the overhearing of some gossip from a parlor room.” Maggie gave no sign of shame. “The young ones get a lot of attention. You probably haven't noticed them, but all of the girls have noticed you.”

Harry had to resist a laugh. Of course he hadn't notice. “What are all the secrets I ought to know?”

“If the cook ever hears you insult his food, you will find too much salt in it from then on. Miss Sophia's maid, Mary, acts quiet and serious, but she will be the first one to betray your secrets. The gardener is quite skilled, but he drinks away all his money.” She took a sip of tea. Suddenly her wide eyes were mischievous. “You will find out all of this in due time. What are _your_ secrets?”

“Did you think I would come out and tell you?”

Maggie protested. “I told you ours!”

“But none about you,” Harry raised an eyebrow.

She squinted at him, smiling. “Good catch. I do believe I will like you.”

Harry regarded this girl with a new found curiosity. He dearly missed Lucy, his confidant. Though this Maggie could never know his secrets like Lucy, she seemed quite fun and willing to share her own.

They talked for some time, not even realizing the rain had stopped. Together they walked back to the house, the irritation Harry felt had gone, until he was facing the Tomlins house.

“Ah, visitors,” Maggie noted, nodding to the carriage stopped in front of the entryway. Harry waited for her to wipe her wet boots on the mat outside the servant’s entrance, Harry doing the same, before entering the warm kitchen. He was immediately aware of the eyes on them, though none of the servants working actually looked up from their chores. Harry wondered how long it would be before Maggie was approached with questions. _Perhaps it is a good thing if they think we share a scandalous romance._

If a servant was at the house on their day off, they were expected to keep to their room or in the common hall just for servants. Harry decided he would prefer the quietness of his room for the remainder of the night and headed up the stairs.

As he lit the lamp on the table between his and Alfred's bed, he noticed a book. It was a collection of short stories by Edgar Allen Poe, and when he pulled open the cover he heard the bind snap with newness. A note fell to his bed.

He recognized Louis' handwriting immediately.

‘ _I am so sorry. I was unable to leave. I promise I will make it up to you_.’

Harry crumpled up the note and watched it burn in the fire, knowing he could not risk anyone else seeing it.

For the first time he truly realized how hard this was going to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Alfred, I would like my gold cufflinks,” Louis said softly. His white pressed shirt was tucked into his black trousers, his jacket still on the hanger. “I believe I saw them in my hall closet.”

Alfred bowed, giving Harry only the slightest look, before leaving to retrieve it.

It had been weeks since they had been left alone together. Louis had been trying to send Alfred away, but every time he did, Harry would find a reason to go instead, as he was still annoyed at being left alone on his day off. This time Louis had cleverly made sure they were all together, and addressed Alfred so he was given no choice.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Louis demanded as soon as the door closed.

Harry took the jacket off the hanger. “What do you mean?”

“Why is it every time I came up with an errand you go instead of Alfred?”  
“Has that happened?”

“Do not be coy. I have been trying to get you alone so I could apologize.”

Harry held out the jacket so Louis could slide his arms through. “Oh?”

“I have a gift.”

“The book was not my gift?”

“No.” Louis waved the jacket away. “Stop this, I'm trying to talk to you. I was about to leave the house that day when visitors arrived. They saw my carriage was still here. I even tried to slip out the back.”

Harry had already discreetly discovered who this guest had been, through Maggie. They did not have much time to speak, but whenever they had the chance during breakfast or lunch, they took the opportunity. He had become her friend easily. “Are you going to tell me they chased after you?”

“Of course not. But my mother saw me and I couldn't very well ignore her.”

“Who was this person who you left me waiting in the rain for?” He wanted to hear Louis say it.

Louis sighed. “Winnifred. You might not remember, she-”

“Of course I remember,” Harry said coolly. “She danced with you at the masquerade ball.”

“Yes. Well, she and her mother arrived unexpectedly and I had to stay.”

“I see.” Harry knew Winnifred and her family would be coming to the dinner party this evening as well. Normal day to day chores were never ending, but this past week had been worse with an upcoming party. Things that had just been scrubbed needed to be scrubbed again, new garments were arriving daily, and no fabric had been allowed a wrinkle. Harry did not understand what the fuss was about, considering the house always looked immaculate.

“Please don't be angry at me.”

Harry shrugged and held up the jacket again. “Turns out, your sister’s maid has the same day off as me. She and I had tea together, and it was quite enjoyable.”

Harry wasn't sure if he saw a flicker of jealousy in Louis' bright blue eyes, or if it was just the light. “Sophia's maid?”

“No, Verity's.”

“Oh. What is her name?”

“Maggie.”

“Is that a good idea? Harry, you are not exactly trained at holding your tongue and-”

“Do not insult me! I am not as stupid as that.” Harry stepped back to inspect Louis' attire. He was dressed in a new coat, lined with white fur, and it fit him magnificently. The stitching was fine, the gray buttons larger than last season, as was the new style.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I just know how maid's are. You told me yourself.”

“Don't worry.” Harry hid his satisfaction at Louis' appearance. His blue eyes seemed to pop out against the black in his suite. “I suppose you look acceptable.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Louis did not even look at his reflection. His eyes were on Harry.

“I suppose.”

“I told you I would make it up to you. It was a promise,” Louis said. “I know this hasn't been easy. Especially these early mornings. But at least I can keep an eye on you here.”

Harry realized it had been some time since Alfred's departure, which was unusual. “Where is Alfred?”

Louis grinned, finally taking his eyes away. “I hid the cufflinks.”

 

 

 

 

 

A light snow was falling as guests arrived. Trees had been lined with ornaments, and the gas lamps were blazing in the dining room. Velvet bows and ribbons had been hung on mantles and shelves, poinsettia plants had been set upon every surface.

The grand dining room's long oaken table was set for thirty-five, the fire already burning as the guests trickled in. All kitchen hands were in the kitchen at the same time, which was one missed catastrophe after another; servers had begun pouring drinks for the guests who were on time.

As a gentleman's valet, Harry had no such duties in the kitchen. He would stand in the dimly lit hall with the other valets and handmaids, in case there would be need of them. Most of them would simply wait, until the night was over and they would undress their master as they did every night.

They were a smart group, these servants, and quite in tune with their employers. They were proud to serve in such a dignified house, and they considered it an honour.

Harry had entered the servant’s hall early, to make certain he had a good spot in which to watch. Instead of doors to separate them from the dining room, there were curtains. Harry knew it was because the opening and closing of doors all night might be a distraction, while one could discretely enter and exit behind a long dark red curtain.

Where the curtain hung slightly at an angle, Harry had an excellent view of the dining room. He only had to tilt his head slightly to watch someone enter. Another benefit to a curtain being the separator of the room, was when someone spoke at a normal tone he could make out much of what they said.

And they seemed to be talking heartily amongst themselves, as women in elegant dresses walked by, holding the arms of their well-dressed men. Trees had been lined up by the door, directing most guests to the hall, much to Harry's advantage.

Keeping his head still as possible so he would not be lectured later for being noisy, he sized up each guest, searching for someone who must be a Tomlins. Louis had been loathing this party, citing it as a boring dinner where everyone recited perfectly acceptable lines. Though he agreed with that part, Harry could not help but get caught up in the excitement of it all.

He was certain he had missed the Tomlins when a good half an hour passed without noting one. Shifting on his feet when he felt an ache in his foot, he wondered how he was going to stand in the same spot all night. By chance he glanced up and spotted what had to be Louis' mother.

Henrietta Tomlins was handsome, with aquiline features and a pretty mouth. She was dressed in a deep burgundy that went well with her thick dark hair. Only a few lines about the eyes and mouth betrayed her age. Her resemblance to Louis was unmistakable, and Harry had to hide his smile. She walked confidently, talking with a few older women, her grace natural and perfected with time.

Harry wondered about Louis. He had left him completely dressed and ready before going straight to the servant’s hall. He had made sure Louis would need nothing else. Perhaps he would come into the dining room from one of the side rooms. He was regretting this position when a circle of younger girls entered, and Harry knew them at once to be the sisters.

Immediately he recognized Sophia's long face from the masquerade ball, but she was now a complete picture. Her hair had been pinned back as it had been that night, but now he could tell her eyes were certainly brown. She was dressed in a flattering blue taffeta dress, and though she was shorter than the other girls, one could guess from her composure that she was the eldest.

Next to her was the younger sisters, little Eva and Lizzie who looked as though they were identical twins. Even from the hall, he could see their eyes were round and blue, but a darker shade than Louis'. Both were skinny as twigs, and seemed to be doing their best to appear older and mature. Lizzie was concentrating very hard on listening to one of the other girls in the group, her hands folded in front of her, while Eva did the same.

Harry knew Verity the instant his eyes landed on her, she being the tallest and already looked completely bored. The night he first saw her, there were ringlets falling about her face, but her curls were dangling to her shoulders now. Her eyes were the same blue as Louis', he noticed. Each of the Tomlins had delicate mouths and pretty lips.

They paused as a server approached them.

Little Eva reached for a glass, but Sophia pulled it away. “No, darling, Mother said so.”

“But I am allowed a glass on Easter!” The little girl protested.

Verity laughed. “I know, it would take a bottle of wine to make this dinner more interesting, but Mother would kill us if she knew you disobeyed.”

A few of the other girls in the circle accepted glasses and continued chatting. A few other couples walked by, when Louis entered. He looked so stunning, so elegant, the room seemed to brighten from his presence. Harry almost didn't notice his father at his side.

George Tomlins was slightly shorter than Louis, but of a similar build. His dark hair was touched with gray, his face long and somber. Harry noticed the father was the one who gave his children the blue eyes, but there was not nearly as much life in his own. The man was not particularly handsome, and his only uniqueness was his eyes. In fact, George Tomlins seemed a rather serious man who might not find anything in life particularly amusing. Even as he greeted guests, no smile touched his lips or eyes.

The men disappeared out of sight, and for a good while Harry had no one to watch. The room was loud with voices, but he could make out nothing specific. The food smelled so rich and warm, he realized then he had not eaten any supper himself. He was so concerned with getting Louis ready it had completely slipped his mind. There would be seven courses, each including a meat. The main course was venison, and the thought of it made his stomach growl.

A little maid on his side glanced at him and giggled. Harry pretended he didn't notice, and stared intently at the curtain in front of him.

An hour went by before the guests were invited to be seated at the table. George Tomlins came in to view, as he held the chair out for his wife (who had her back to Harry) as he took his spot at the head of the table. Harry bit his lip to hide his smile when he saw Louis appear at his father's left. _I can see them perfectly!_ That was when he noticed Louis hold out a chair for a woman, before taking a seat next to his father.

Harry knew who it was before he even looked at her face. Winnifred von Parma, without a mask, yet still wearing one. _Prettier than I had hoped_. Her hair was brown and thick and perfectly styled atop her head. Her round eyes gave the impression of a little fawn, and her small nose and mouth only accentuated her delicate features. Innocent would be the first word to describe her, but Harry was trained to see beyond the face. The same coldness he recalled seeing in her eyes through the mask was still evident in the brightly decorated room. She was small of frame, as Harry had remembered from the night of the masquerade. Her hands moved delicately when she spoke.

Louis' mother gave a speech about family and happiness, but Harry was not listening. He was watching Louis and Winnifred. Just like all of them are watching, Harry thought. He remembered Verity telling him the night of the ball how Winnifred wanted to be married to Louis.

The food was being served, and cup bearers were scurrying about, seeing that no glass was empty of wine. At first Louis kept his eyes down, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times. His eyes were sad, but no one else seemed to notice. George Tomlins was quiet, and never smiled, only nodded. At some point, when someone must have said something funny, the room erupted with laughter, but George Tomlins was stone-faced even then. Harry wondered if the man had been like this all his life. There was no warmth in him at all, and he doubted he was one who would offer any comfort or words of encouragement when needed. When his children played too loudly, had he scolded them to be quiet? Harry imagined a young Louis reading and laughing, looking to a father who took no enjoyment in such things. He felt sorry for Louis in that regard. Harry's time with his father had been short, but all of his memories were of warmth and laughter. It was those memories that got him through most of the terrible nights he was on the street.

It was three more hours before the first of the guests departed. Others stayed, enjoying the endless flow of food and drink. On the other side of this town people are starving to death, whilst these people stuff themselves, Harry thought. He listened to their meaningless stories and petty arguments. A man was loudly going on about his banker's error on a deposit slip that took him hours to correct. A woman spoke about a tailor that took too long to sew her dress when he worked quick for another family, while an old man complained of his granddaughter’s violin lessons. Hunger and exhaustion were making Harry more irritated than he would have liked. He had been woken at four this morning, and here it was after midnight and he was still expected to stand to attention. _I hate waking so early_. Since he had arrived at the Tomlins estate he was tired and sore more often than not. At least at Charlie’s he was allowed plenty of sleep.

Verity's maids were able to leave the line when Verity departed. Harry watched Louis, willing him to leave as well. But Louis was sitting straight, looking towards the other end of the table as a man explained why he fired his cook for serving too many cold dishes. Other guests were trickling out.

 _Will this night ever end?_ It was then he noticed Winnifred put a hand on Louis' arm. _A small gesture._ A few of the other servants were leaving, as their masters did. Winnifred leaned in and whispered something into Louis' ear and giggled. Louis only nodded. She moved her hand to his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. Someone from the other end of the table commented on how lovely she and Louis looked together. Did they use the word couple? Harry felt a lump in his throat and pulled at his collar. The uniform was suffocating!

Winnifred battered her eye lashes and giggled innocently into her hand. Louis answered with a small laugh and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Harry turned to leave.

“Is Master Tomlins ready?” Alfred asked falling in step with him.

“What?”

“Is he standing?”

Harry remembered his place. _Servant servant servant_. He took a deep breath and tried to control himself. “I thought I did, perhaps I am mistaken. I will check again.”

Of course Louis was still sitting. Harry had to force a smile at Alfred and tell him he must have just been adjusting his seat.

It was one o'clock when George Tomlins finally stood, his wife following him. Though they had separate rooms, it was customary that husband and wife retire to their rooms at the same time. The dinner party was officially over for the dozen or so guests who still remained.

Finally Louis stood, helping Winnifred to her feet. She linked her arm through his, and he escorted her out of the dining room.

Harry glanced at Alfred, who motioned for him to follow.

And again, they waited. Perhaps he walked his pretty little lady all the way home, Harry was thinking, as he had nothing to stare at in the hall save the clock, which sounded particularly loud with every click tonight. It was two-thirty when Louis finally returned. His cheeks were pink from the cold outside.

“Alfred, will you please secure my pocket watch up and cufflinks?” Louis said. He held out the watch and Alfred helped him remove the gold cufflinks. “That is all I need of you tonight. Harry, will you help me?”

Alfred collected Louis' things and bowed.

Harry followed Louis into his room. The fire was barely going, and the candle he had left on the nightstand was almost out, drowning in its own wax. Alfred would have scolded him for not ensuring a new candle had been lit.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had your pocket watch. You certainly didn't seem to notice the time,” Harry said, pulling at Louis' buttons.

Louis heard his tone. “I am sorry it is so late.”  
“I have to wake at four in the morning. I am going to get two hours of sleep!” Harry snapped.

“I cannot leave until my father does. He doesn't usually stay this late, else I would have warned you,” Louis said quietly. “I can send Alfred off, and let you sleep a little longer.”

“There is too much to do, I have no time to sleep!” Harry undid his trousers. “A wonder these still fit, for all the food you eat!”

“Harry, what-”

“That is all you people ever seem to do! I do not know how your family does not weigh three hundred pounds each. Do you realize the kitchen staff wakes at midnight to start the bread? Preparing the meals is one great task after the other.”

Louis took Harry's frantic hands. “You are exhausted. I can see it in your eyes. I will tell Alfred not to wake you, I will think of something.”

Harry jerked his hand away. “What a kind master.”

“You are angry with me. What did I do?”

You are one of them, he thought, though he knew it wasn't fair. _No matter what, he will always be a gentleman and I will always be a prostitute_. What would these people think if they knew the truth? He shook his head at himself, angrier that he should even care! What did those people know about being cold or hungry? They were such hypocrites; many of them were only pretending to care about each other. He wondered how many of these men would kiss their wives goodnight, before stealing out to give their true passions to someone like Harry, man or woman.

Harry had to look away. This was Louis' life. Louis was hiding, just like all the others, but his secrets would always be much worse. Harry pulled at his collar once more.

“Harry, please. Tell me what you are thinking!”

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. I just need to get you in your night shirt so I can get some sleep.”

Louis was quiet, and said nothing else. He might have insisted Harry go to bed without undressing him, but then Louis wouldn't know how to do it on his own.

Once Louis was in his night garments, no easy task for all the buttons, he took Harry's hand. “Wait.”

“Did I forget something?”

“I cannot force you to tell me what you are thinking, but please do not shut me out. Is it Winnifred? Was it the party?” He took a deep breath. “There are mediocre people here. But that is not all of them. There are those who are fighting for laws to make it right. No more children dying as they work, no more starving people. They are not all so…empty.”

“Is there anything else? It is late and I will only get an hour of sleep at this point.”

“There is nothing else.”

By the time Harry crawled into bed, it was already time to wake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The snow had been falling straight for two days. George and Henrietta Tomlins had departed despite the snow, so that they could be at their country house for Christmas. With them they had taken Sophia, Lizzie, Eva, and their servants. Verity had remained in order to avoid the annual Christmas Eve party at the manor, so the only Tomlins that remained were she and Louis.

Quietness had fallen on the house, except when Verity played the piano. She was quite good, though she loathed playing in front of an audience.

Harry was still exhausted. Alfred was always about, giving him no moment for himself. Though the family was gone, Louis was quite busy with things that kept him out of the house. Harry guessed he was keeping himself away on purpose. They had not really spoken since the night of the party. _Does he regret what he has done? Does he regret bringing me here?_

The morning was cold and bright, with icicles dangling from the leaves in the garden, making them twinkle in the light. The sun was making a rare appearance, but for the moment it was a welcome sight from seeing all the gray. Harry was tasked with getting Louis' coats in order, seeing to any frays and sending out any that needed cleaning.

When Alfred finally left the room, Harry sat himself on one of Louis' seats that was upholstered in a soft green velvet, and pulled out a handful of Louis' coats. There were so many, this would take the whole day. Harry had been getting only a few hours of sleep the past few nights and the more tired he became the more irritable. He was holding up one of Louis' coats, which of course was in perfect condition, when he decided to shut his eyes, just for a moment. He had been yawning all morning, and that must be horribly offending to Alfred. The chair was quiet comfortable, and the room was so warm.

It was giggling that awoke him.

He sat with a start, throwing the coat from his lap.

Maggie began laughing again.

“I think you stopped my heart!” Harry said, rubbing his head. Had it been Alfred...he could not even imagine.

“I was helping Betsy do the heavy linens, since Jane and Angeline are in the country. It was time to do the curtains,” Maggie was still laughing. “Imagine my surprise when I came in her to find you sleeping!”

“Better you than anyone else,” Harry said.

“You look very peaceful when you sleep.” Maggie pushed a curl from his eye. She smiled before leaning over to retrieve the fallen coat. “Has young Master Tomlins been running you ragged?”

“No, not at all,” Harry said quickly. “I have just been having some restless nights.”

“I am surprised you haven't found it easy to sleep. It's been quiet as a mouse around here.”

“Is Miss Verity not going to the country house at all?”

“She is not planning on it. She considers this her vacation away from the family,” Maggie smiled. “Is Master Louis?”

“No.” He will be disappointed that Verity isn't leaving, Harry thought.

“I can help you with these coats. It's going to take Betsy two days to do the other curtains. It makes no difference taking them down now,” Maggie offered. “If you don't mind me intruding.”

Harry accepted. Together they talked and went through the coats. Maggie had some new gossip on a maid and one of the kitchen hands. Harry enjoyed the company, as she made him laugh quiet easily. He suddenly thought of Lucy and missed her terribly.

After a few hours, they were done. They only found three that needed some threads repaired.

“Thank you, Maggie. This would have taken me all day alone.”

Maggie shook her head. “Longer, if you had slept through most of it!”

“Promise you won't tell anyone you caught me sleeping!” Harry said, hoping she would.

“I promise, Harold.” She took his hands and shook her head. “I have never found it so easy to talk to someone before.”

“No?”

“Especially someone as beautiful as you.”

Harry went to pull away, but she held his hands.

“Do you find me pleasing?”

“Um, of course Maggie,” Harry replied, not knowing what else to say. She brushed her finger along his lips. “I better be off-”

Before Harry could say more, Maggie leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips. Surprise froze him in place. _What are you doing!_ She grabbed his face and held it firmly against her own. He opened his eyes, and saw hers were close. He touched her hands on his face to pull them away. That was when he heard the door.

Maggie pulled away first, and Harry could only stand in horror.

Alfred was in the doorway, one eye brow raised. He crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head. “Most unsuitable,” was all he said before leaving them.

“Oh dear!” Maggie touched her lips. “I...I never would have, if I'd known he was here...I thought he was gone!” She stood and straightened her skirts, before rushing out the door.

Harry touched his own lips. _Oh God. He is going to tell Louis._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry waited to be called. The night had come and gone, and still no Louis. He was not called to do his tasks, so he waited in his room, staring at the same page and reading nothing. _This should be comical._ What a thing for Alfred to catch, of all people. Harry rolled his eyes every time he replayed it in his head. Poor Maggie. He hoped she would not get into trouble.

His head was pounding as he watched the shadows cross the floor in his room. It had been a few days since he last ate. Lately his inability to sleep was affecting his appetite. The trousers that Louis had bought him were loose, and he had to hold them up with pins. He dared not ask for them to be taken in, wishing to avoid that argument. He decided that Louis would not be seeing him for another day, when there was a knock on the door that made him jump.

It was one of the foot boys, perhaps a little older than Harry, but short and plump. “Master Louis to see you!” He declared, motioning for Harry to follow him down the stairs.

Harry hastily adjusted his shirt and pants, which only know he realized had become wrinkled. His hair was a mess of curls, that he tried to adjust to look somewhat presentable.

“Thank you,” Harry muttered, after the foot boy left him. Of course Louis was in his study, it was not like he didn't know where to go. He carefully pushed open the door.

The room was chilly. He could see only embers of the fire that had gone out. Louis had his back to him, standing at his desk. He looked so elegant, as usual, that Harry quickly tried to flatten his shirt and straighten his pants.

Louis kept his back to him. “Close the door, Harry.”

Harry knew that tone. This was the Louis that did not know him. Harry glanced around and saw they were alone. He only spoke to him like that when someone was around. Harry closed the door.

“Louis-”

“I did not give you leave to speak,” Louis said instead.

He felt his face get hot as he became angry. “I need to wait for you to give me leave to speak, do I?”

“I still did not grant you leave,” Louis said coolly, finally turning around.

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and said nothing.

“I trust that what Alfred told me was no lie? I have known the man since I was a boy, and never once has he lied or gossiped.”

Harry shrugged. “What did he tell you?”

Louis shook his head, his blue eyes flashing. “That he caught you kissing a maid!”

“Her name is Maggie,” Harry said defensively. “Or are we only as important as our titles in your service?”

Louis shook his head. “I am in no mood, Harry. Do you know what it felt like having the man tell me that?”  
“You should have laughed in his face, Louis!”

“Why? Is it not true? Was it a trick of the light?”

Harry felt his trousers sliding down his waist, and he stuck his thumb in the pocked to keep them up. “It is true. But this is utterly ridiculous Louis, how can you not see that?”

“Ridiculous is not the word I would use Harry. How could you do this?”

“If you would let me tell my side of the story instead of listening to Alfred, I could tell you!” Harry yelled.

“Do not raise your voice at me!”

“Because I am your servant?” Harry felt as though he had been struck.

Louis closed his eyes. “This type of behavior is just unacceptable-”

“For servants.”

“Well, yes!  I just do not understand why you would do such a thing!”

“First of all, _I_ did not do anything. Maggie was helping me sort through your coats, and all of a sudden she kissed me. For God's sake Louis, do you think I kissed her?”

“All of a sudden?”

“Yes. We were talking and then it happened. It's not as though I wanted that.”  
Louis looked down. “No?”

“No, of course not.  It is not like it shall ever happen again.” Harry pulled up his trousers. “However, it is very likely that you will be kissed by that Winnifred woman again.”

Louis sighed. “That is why you are upset?”

“That is not why I am upset,” Harry shot back. “Well, not all of it. I don't know what it was. It was seeing you. Seeing you with her, and all those people, and the trifle things they complain about!”

“Those are my family's friends, I told you, they are not mine.”

“But Winnifred is yours. And you two make the perfect couple.”

Louis looked defeated for a moment, before the anger returned. “Do not turn this on me, Harry Stiles! Regardless of who kissed who with you and...and...”

“Maggie!”

“You should never have let it happen. Servants cannot simply do that sort of thing! I am going to have to punish you.”

Harry felt the tears in his eyes. He was so exhausted. This was supposed to be the solution; being with Louis was all he wanted. But he was seeing less of him than when he lived at Charlies house. _Are we destined to lose?_ The room was full of light and books. He should feel at home there. He had never felt more like an intruder.

“Well, what is my punishment?” He asked instead. He would not let his tears fall.

“You cannot be alone with her again. Two weeks without wages, and your next two days off you will have to work,” Louis said quietly. “Alfred can't think you are being favored or-”

“I suppose not. Is that all?”

“Harry, I-”

“Do I have your leave to go?”

“Wait-”

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, turning on his heel. Once he got to his room he saw the man in the other bed, the lingering smoke of a recently blown out candle still in the air.  Harry felt the tears fall, though he kept as quiet as possible, pressing his face into his pillow to stifle any sound. It was embarrassing enough, he did not want anyone to hear him. Suddenly his filthy room at Hartwick House seemed to be the only place he thought he belonged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Christmas Eve and Harry Stiles had never felt so alone.

Harold Smyth, that is my name now, Harry reminded himself. He wasn't sure if he was doing a good job of avoiding Louis, or if Louis was avoiding him. Either way, Alfred seemed content to be taking on most of the duties around the house again. Harry was sure he knew of his punishment, and must have thought it satisfactory. Harry was being sent out for long, tedious tasks. Most of them found Harry gone all day, which he was certain was on purpose. Twice Harry got so lost on a frivolous errand that he didn't return until after midnight. Alfred had not scolded him on that, but of course he wouldn't. Harry was sure he reported it to Louis though.

The young servants were giggling at him, while the other ones averted their eyes. _Let them talk, it is at least better than any truth they could discover about me._

Most of the servants who were still in London were given Christmas morning off, so if they had family in the area they could visit, if only for a short time. Harry had no family, nowhere to go. _I could always go to Hartwick House._ He had to remind himself that though they were like his family, it was still a home for prostitutes and not a place one would go calling on Christmas Eve.

Maggie had been his only close friend, and now he could not even be alone with her. _Or what, will Louis send me away?_ Harry thought about daring to defy him, but then decided that insolence might be too much. _If I am fired from here, where would I possibly go?_ Louis had bought him from Hartwick House to set him free. _Or did he buy me so he could have me, instead of sharing me with other men?_ Harry had to shake his head to get rid of that thought.

Alfred had a sister in the area, and had left at eight o'clock that evening to visit. He had wished Harry a Happy Christmas before leaving. The snow had stopped a day ago, which meant the clean white frost was no more. Now the snow looked dirty and gray, making the outside world seem unusually filthy.

It was two in the morning, and Harry could not sleep, his thoughts broken up with his past and future. A year ago he had been lying in Hyde Park, bleeding to death. But a stranger named Louis Tomlins had saved him. _And now look how far we've come._

He could not stand being in bed any longer. He pulled a coat over his night garments and crept down the stairs. The furnace still had some burning embers, making the kitchen glow. It still smelled of the bread and cakes that had been baked, and it was all very picturesque for Christmas Eve. At least, Harry thought that was how a kitchen should seem. He slipped out the back door and felt the slick wet grass under his bare feet.

He walked through the garden, though it was not so much a garden at the moment but a collection of leafless trees and bushes. It was spread over half an acre of land, with turning paths that made for an enjoyable stroll during sunny weather. Harry walked and walked, until he was breathless. He could see the mist coming out of him, and his feet were cold and wet. Coming upon a stone bench that faced a rose bush (the only flower in bloom) he sat and stared.

The soft footsteps betrayed the walker before he saw him.

“Harry?”

“Do you have a watch on me or something? Are you afraid I will try to see sneak away to see Maggie?”

“No, of course not,” Louis answered quickly. “I was looking out the window of my library, and I saw you come out here.”

“So?”

“I...I didn't know if you were trying to run away.”

That made Harry laugh bitterly. “Run away? And where could I possibly go?”

Louis was silent for awhile. “You want to leave?”

 _Does that_ _notion hurt him more than I?_ Harry shrugged.

Louis took a step closer. “May I sit?”

“This is your garden, not mine. Do what you wish.”

Louis decided against it. “What did I do the night of the party that made you so angry with me?”

 _It is nothing that you can change._ “That is your world, Louis. I can never be a part of it.”

“But why would you want to be? You heard them. It is so tedious and self-important. You said yourself, all the things that keep my family busy are nonsense.”

“It is. But it is where you are.” Harry rubbed his cold hands together furiously. “Besides, you are just as angry with me. You punished me!”

“Why aren't you wearing any gloves?” Louis suddenly realized. He leaned over and saw his feet. “Or shoes? Harry!”

“At least you know I wasn't running away.” Harry watched his breath come out in a mist.

Louis finally sat next to him. So elegant and proper, even so early in the morning. His sleep garments were fine blue silk, and his heavy coat lined with fur. “I am sorry for talking to you that way.”

“I _am_ your servant, Louis.”

“No, you are not.” Louis pulled his own gloves off with one skilled move and handed them to Harry. “I suppose it's hard for you not to feel that way, when I treat you like one.”

Harry was about to respond, when he noticed Louis was not wearing any shoes. “Ha! You hypocrite!”

Louis smiled, though his eyes were still sad. “I couldn't find my slippers, and I didn't want to take too long trying to lace boots myself, if you were trying to sneak away.”

Harry felt his smile fade. “If I had, you could easily find someone to replace me.”

Louis took Harry's chin so they were eye to eye. “I do not want anyone else. What do I need to do to convince you?”

“This is really...so very hard. Much harder than I thought.” Harry watched Louis' blue eyes. “It's nearly impossible to be alone with you. And waking up so early. I know you think I am a lazy twat. I have just never worked so much since being at Charlies.”

Louis' brow furrowed. “I thought this would make it easier to see you.”

Harry could see the pink creeping up Louis' cheeks. “Why don't we go back inside?”

Louis nodded. They returned to the house, the warmth from the kitchen making Harry feel as if he could melt. He grabbed a linen to wipe their feet dry.

Louis cleared his throat. “Harold, would you please help me in my room. With my sheets?”

Harry looked at him. He lowered his voice. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Louis opened the pantry door and retrieved some bread and cheese. Harry was shocked he even knew his way around the pantry. “Follow me, please.”

Quietly they crept up the stairs, and once behind the safety of Louis' room, Harry laughed. “Sheets? Help you with your sheets?”

“I couldn't think of anything else. Not that anyone might be up at this hour, but just in case.” Louis smiled. “Besides, Alfred is gone.”

“True.”

Louis pulled the bread apart and handed Harry a large piece. “Do not think your weight has gone unnoticed by me. You look as though you are playing dress-up in your father's clothes.”

“I haven't been hungry,” Harry said defensively.

“Well, eat something now. If you think I am going to get your trousers taken in, you are mistaken. You will eat until they fit again.”

Harry resisted rolling his eyes, and took the food he was offered. It was still warm, and it had bits of raisin baked in it.

They ate quietly for a moment. He looked up and found Louis watching him.

“What is Winnifred like?” Harry heard himself ask before he could stop himself.

Louis stopped chewing. “I don't really want to talk about her.”

“Just tell me what she is like,” Harry stuck out his lower lip. He had been dying to know since he saw her at the dinner.

“Her family is very reputable. They have been friends with my family for a long time. Her mother and my mother grew up together. Her grandfather was a member of Parliament, and so is her father.”

“That is the most boring description of someone I have ever heard.”

Louis frowned, thinking. He leaned back against his bed, his legs stretched before him. “She...she is...I don't know. She is very well-liked in society. She knows all the right people, and she plays the part well. She does not give anyone a reason to gossip unjustly about her.”

“But what is she _like_ , Louis!”

“She does not read often, so I have not spoken to her about books. Her father does not allow her to read the paper. She plays the flute. But I have never heard her play.” Louis shook his head. “She is very pleasant to me. Oh, I don't know Harry.”

“I don't like her eyes.”

“They are brown, aren't they?”

“Not the color! Something about them is...frigid.”

“I have never noticed.” Louis gave Harry a look. “You don't want to like her, do you?”

Harry knew he would get nothing more out of him on the subject of Winnifred. Instead of pressuring him further, he went to the bed and crawled beside Louis. He would have been touching him, but he kept an inch between them, and he watched Louis' body react readily from his nearness.  Harry smiled.

Louis pushed a curl behind Harry's ear. “It has been so long.  Too long.”

“Don't tell me you forgot what to do?” Harry teased.

Louis' blue eyes looked away. “I will think of something, Harry. To fix this.”

“But not tonight. Tonight I only want you to think of me.”

Louis smiled. “I am yours.”

 


End file.
